


Not My Secret to Tell

by persephoneapple



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Post-War, Romance, Slow Burn, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 17:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10518597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneapple/pseuds/persephoneapple
Summary: After the war, Harry struggles to find out what he plans to do with the rest of his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Not My Secret to Tell**  
>  **Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ron, past Harry/Ginny [PG-13, ?]**  
>  **Disclaimer:** JK Rowling and co own everything. I’m writing for fun and not for profit.  
>  **A/N:** I have not written anything for a while, but suddenly this popped into my head and I could not ignore it. It will be sporadically published and I have no idea where it goes from here. Inspiration came from the Mary Oliver [poem](https://www.loc.gov/poetry/180/133.html) where it asks _Tell me, what is it you plan to do with you one wild and precious life?_ and by the Imagine Dragons song [The Fall](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MWglxkw1y4). Not beta'd or Brit-picked at all and the title and summary might change.  
>  In other news, I will be in London one year from today to see _Cursed Child_! I am thrilled and terribly excited and I just can't wait. :)

Harry remembers the first time he ever saw a gay couple kissing. 

Aunt Petunia had woken him earlier than usual, yanking him out of his cupboard and throwing him outside with only a handful of coins and orders to bring back some milk and a receipt. He had tried to ask for a jacket because it was cold, dark, and looked like it might rain, but was greeted with a door slammed in his face.

The shop was empty at this early hour and Harry had to walk all the way to the back in order to reach the dairy section. He remembers glancing at the expiration dates, looking for odd numbers because they would always bring him luck. When he had finally selected a carton of milk, instead of going straight to the front and paying, Harry took a detour to look at the cakes and biscuits in the bakery section. After all, he didn’t need any money just to look at things he would never receive for his birthday.

Harry had rounded the corner and immediately stopped to avoid bumping into a trolley. The carton of milk slipped out of his hands and slid across the floor, right next to two men arguing over a piece of paper. Excuses were on the tip of his tongue, but Harry closed his mouth when he realised that the men had not even noticed him. 

Right in front of Harry stood a tall, blond man with glasses holding onto a list and scanning it, crossing out items they already had. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he peered into their trolley and shook his head. Harry didn’t understand what was wrong. Unless it was because the trolley was filled with leafy green vegetables and small portions of fruit and little more, something that Harry himself would have had a hard time eating, even when he was starving.

Meanwhile, an auburn haired man came up behind him and placed a package of Oreos right on top of the vegetables, but the blond haired man scowled and took them out of the trolley.

"What do you think you are doing? These are not on the list." 

Instead of answering, the shorter man reached out and hugged the blond from behind, placing his head on the other man’s shoulders. He whispered something in his ear and when he didn’t get a response, kissed the man on his cheek. 

Harry’s mouth dropped open at the unexpected display of affection between two men and was startled when the red haired man started speaking again.

"I'll eat anything on your list if you let me have Oreos. Besides, these make me happy and don't you want me to be happy?”

The blond man crossed his arms and sighed. “Jack, they are not on the budget. We can't afford them." 

"Nonsense! One day, Alexander, we'll be so rich, very happily married, and you won't ask for anything!" Jack declared, spinning Alexander around so that they faced each other.

"I’ll live happily-ever-after with you?" Alexander teased, a hint of smile finally showing on his face.

“Oh, you’ll never get rid of me. I’ll be with you forever!” Jack laughed and tipped Alexander's head back and gave him a breathtaking kiss that made Harry blush at such an intimate sight. Stammering out an excuse, Harry picked up the carton of milk off the floor, paid at the till, and then headed back to the Dursley’s house.

Outside, the clouds grew darker as Harry pulled his left arm inside his threadbare t-shirt to keep himself warm. Harry’s thoughts were muddled as he tried to sort out exactly what was making him feel a bit uneasy and kept his heart pounding. He was shocked at the kissing, yes, because the Dursleys hardly displayed signs of affection. In fact, the only knowledge of kissing Harry had was his Uncle Vernon's quick pecks on his Aunt Petunia’s lips, in front of family members and co-workers, or the quick peeks at the television whenever Harry had a chance.

However, Harry had never seen two men kissing, and even at a very early age, when Harry saw something different, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was normal or if this was proof of the freaks that Uncle Vernon kept talking about.

Harry shook his head. No, these men were not freaks; Harry was sure of it. They couldn’t be, and not just because of the tender way they held onto each other, the familiarity, and the warmth that the two men shared and was lacking in Harry's own life. And the promises made to each other, even if they were treated as faraway dreams, were so close to what Harry wanted that it sent a tight feeling of hopelessness all through his body. Harry had to close his eyes to prevent himself from crying. Harry dreamed of having someone come rescue him, to take him away from his wretched life that he had known for nearly a decade. But his parents were dead, killed when Harry was just a baby, and so the best Harry could hope for was to leave as soon as possible when he became of age. 

The only way to tell that Harry was crying was to feel the warm tears against his cheeks as they mingled in with the cold raindrops that finally fell from grey skies.


End file.
